Gears of War: Tiger Eye
by GrimmWeeper
Summary: Gears of War fanfiction: Tiger Squad has to rescue survivors from rescue mission that had gone wrong. A rescuerescue mission if you will bad joke good read.
1. The Rescue

The bullets left their marks on the wall. Josh was the last of his squad. His helmet had taken three shots, miraculously he was still alive. With his lancer firm in his hand and the two boomers coming up from behind the wall, he was going crazy. Josh never believed in miracles, as such it wasn't a miracle that saved him. Actually it was the 'copter circling above. The helicopter fired. The boomers fell. Josh emerged. His helmet didn't fit him anymore so he just left it on the floor. Short blond hair, shaved from the sides, and blue eyes, this was the face of the new recruit. Josh, with great difficulty, walked towards the helicopter. It wasn't like he was wounded or anything. Just the fact that his whole entire unit, all his friends, had just died. Right in front of him, it wasn't just sadness that he felt but failure; failure to help and save the people of his squad taunted him. However Josh was an optimist, but even he didn't see the locust that threw the frag under his feet. Heck, he never even noticed the grenade, not even at it exploded and his limbs flew over. The bright side? The sadness and lack of self worth he felt had died as well.

"Go, go, go!" the orders came at the scream of an older man. Late 40s early 50s but that could have just been the stress of war. His wrinkles and lines didn't just speak of previous years, they told of fights and many battles fought, his scars helped too. Obviously he had no helmet on, and it wasn't because bullets had pounded it into a shape that could not fit his head, but because the years had given him much advice on the art of war. Keeping your head down was one of the good ones. Lancer in hand, he shot at the one coming Locust as the chopper flew up in the air, only to get knocked back down a few minutes later by seeders.

"Please repeat," the soldier who had spoken wiped away the blood on his armor, or at least wiped off the big pieces.

"Black 6 down. Rescue the survivors two klicks south of the House of Sovereigns, at the Hospital of Sovereignty."

"Copy that," with the soldier's radio conversation over, his newly free hand reached for another round of Lancer ammo located at his belt. After his reload, he told the mission the rest of his squad. "All right guys, you know what to do. Let's go."

The four of them moved quietly to the other side of the street, to the bar. Santiago.

"Shit Lloyd, its Santiago's bar!" a soldier had said. Not the same one before, this one carried a sniper, plus he was bald.

"Haha! Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" This guy was big as he was black, and he was black.

"Don't get any ideas. Just 'coz you'll be too drunk to see the Locust, doesn't mean they'll be stupid enough NOT to shoot a dumb ass with a beer bottle," this was the same soldier that spoke at the beginning. Lance Quake, the Lancer. Black hair, blue eyes. The other guy, the bald one was called, Steve. With the black guy being Lloyd, there was only one more left in the squad. Anyone that met him knew two things about him as soon as their eyes would meet his; he was quite and twice as deadly. It was funny because even though he was quite himself, his presence spoke volumes. He was Louis, and before the war, he used to be an undertaker.

All the other teammates watched as Louis moved a single finger towards his lips, his left hand moved towards a frag, which was sent sailing out in to the air, landing in an emergency hole.

"Fraaaaaag!" in that voice that resembled a horror film, confirmed the success of the throw. The grenade blew, the hole collapsed, and the ground beneath the Tiger Squad trembled. Louis and Steve both ran into the bar, while Lance and Lloyd both took to hiding behind a concrete slab outside. All frantically searching for any grenades. In one of the four holes, a single drone paused in his climb to look up in the air to find three grenades overhead, one just missed him, the one after landed, firmly in his mouth. He didn't get to see the other one, but maybe would have been pleased to know that it missed and exploded harmlessly somewhere in the distance. Maybe, but he was dead. Guns lit up like firecrackers and Locust went done, but somewhere, if anyone bothered to strain their ears could have heard it, the words of a giant "Boom!"


	2. Vyacheslav Mikhailovich Molotov

Sometimes things weren't too obvious to figure out, after all how many people knew the y intercept of a line with these two co-ordinates: (8,4) (4,2). Steve knew, he wouldn't admit it though. However God, if one chooses to believe in the most merciful, created balance in the world of Sera by making some things obvious. Hiding behind the nearest solid object while simultaneously hitting the floor upon hearing the word "boom" from a giant locust was just one of them. Some philosophers tried to argue and prove that the world didn't even need giant locusts or Boomers as they were called. Now a days it didn't pay to be a philosopher, they had enough of those.

Lloyd seemed like the stereotypical black guy, really big and frightening. But the defining difference between him and any other movie character was the fact that he had to take a shit. Really bad he might've added. No, he wasn't scared. But the locust kept popping up every goddamn second, taking a shit was hard! He didn't have grenades, but maybe throwing his turd would have the same affect? Overcoming the need to shit, Lloyd popped out and shot at the oncoming locust. His eyes were closed though, constipation often made people close their eyes "I HAVE TO SHIT REAL BAD!". He hid back behind his cover.

Lance watched the boomers emerge from the now settling dust. One wasn't too bad, they could handle one. Two wasn't his favorite number, still it was the wretches that made him cringe, to him they were the worst. Fast, small and a pain in the ass, sawing them up just made more trouble. He reached for a grenade, "Lance the Lancer, shit. Why couldn't I be Lance the Lucky?" his hand grabbed air. "Maybe Lance the Unlucky?".In the end, the only thing that mattered was living. Grenades? Rifles? It didn't matter they were all tools used to end lives, or prolong one depending on how things were seen. Still, grenades would be real helpful. The lancer shook with every bullet it unleashed. It didn't shake long. Lance went back to hiding behind his concrete slab; his cover. He heard a faint tinkling of, of glass bottles? "What are they doing in there?". "You have to shit?" Lance couldn't help but laugh.

Steve got up from behind the bar counter, he had just finished his seventh Molotov cocktail, but that wasn't the reason why he got up. "Lloyd has to take a shit!?" he laughed, but he never tried to help it. It made everything even funnier when he saw the expression of some of the locusts. Priceless. He went back into hiding when another missile hit the top of the bar, missing him entirely, but all the same he hid. He turned to see his teammate, Louis who was, surprisingly smiling?

"…" He was quiet, but at least he was about to laugh. Good enough, for now.

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It wasn't long before the "Molotov bread baskets" fell. They were launched high into the air by both Steve and Louis through a conveniently placed hole in the ceiling, and upon landing ignited on the swarm of locusts, temporarily halting the advance. The walls of fire had them moving around it, except for the boomers, they just kept on walking. Doors, walls, barriers were all a lost concept on their little brains, however an aimed bullet often taught them on what they were missing out on, metaphorically speaking of course.

The men of Tiger squad retreated, strategically. They weren't foolish, but they did have pride. Maybe not Louis, he was just one freaky bastard. Right now the freaky bastard was clutching on to his lancer. One hand it was to be noticed was on the revving switch. Too bad for Louis, but the Lancer was already taken. Maybe that explained why he looked, displeased. However, his problems weren't as bad as Lloyd's and he was glad about that.

Lance decided that they had covered enough track for his team to take a quick break, that and Lloyd was starting to smell.


End file.
